


Proof of Virtue

by allyoops



Category: Original Work
Genre: (probably), Abuse of Authority, Anachronistic, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Forced Submission, Loss of Innocence, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Underage Rape/Non-con, Victorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 08:55:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11482959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyoops/pseuds/allyoops
Summary: Any man of upright character must needs be disappointed when his female ward betrays her strict upbringing by unwittingly bringing him to arousal.Protest as she might, affairs thereafter must take their natural course.





	Proof of Virtue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> This work may contain underage characters depending on the law where you live. The youngest participant is sixteen.

Derrick Morrison was a man of upstanding character. Everyone said so. It was a point of pride for him, and it was for that very reason he had been charged with the care and upbringing of his ward Miss Alice Lowell after the death of her parents.

He was not a blood relative of the girl, but the close friendship he had shared with her father since their boyhood had caused him to feel some tender obligation to the child and her wellbeing. He presented his case that this bond made him a candidate for guardianship, and on closer scrutiny he proved the best equipped in every respect—he possessed property sufficient not to be tempted by the acquisition of hers, and a moral character upright enough to guide her the development of her own. Therefore he was appointed by the executor of her parents’ estate to the care and upbringing of the little girl, then only eight years of age.

However, it was Derrick’s very uprightness of character that caused him to be so disconcerted to discover Alice was probably a girl of loose and wanton inclination.

It should have been inconceivable that a young lady he’d raised for fully half of her life could disappoint in that respect. Now sixteen, she conducted herself with every appearance of virtue and had never done anything to give him concern. She wore the clothes he approved, kept the hours he set and engaged only in those amusements he deemed appropriate.

However, on espying her—quite by chance—in her nightgown on the landing one evening, he was alarmed to discover she raised the same reaction in his breeches as a Covent Garden whore. And since he was an individual of such impeccable character, this must mean Alice was not.

The problem dismayed him so that he sent for her at once the following morning. She came to him dressed in a very appropriate garment, a white lawn gown ruffled about the neck and wrists, her dark hair falling in soft curls around rosy cheeks and thence halfway down her back. She was the image of a girl prepared to achieve womanhood unsullied by any worldly pollution, first carefully guarded by an especially dour nursemaid and thereafter by a grim governess who had just last month given up her earthly husk and doubtless been borne away to whatever sober reward awaited only the most Scottish and Presbyterian of governesses.

Yes, everything about Alice radiated the innocent composure expected of such a carefully-reared young lady, but somehow the very purity of the image evoked an opposite reaction in Derrick. He was consumed by a desire to tear the snowy white dress from her body and expose her flesh to his mercy—therefore, he concluded she must be a very wicked girl indeed.

“Alice,” he said gravely, “I must speak with you on a serious matter.”

She looked at him in becoming concern. Her pink, Cupid’s-bow lips pursed in confusion.

“What matter is that, Sir?”

“I am concerned for your character.”

Her eyes widened, shining a dark starry blue and appearing guileless in every respect.

“My character? What have I done?”

“This I do not know,” he said honestly, “but I fear it must be most terrible. I thought it would only be fair to invite you to confess your transgressions before I found them out myself, as you must know I will.”

“I have no secrets from you,” she promised. “If I have done anything, you are already privy to it.”

He frowned. There was such honesty in her voice, and yet he longed above all else to bare her breasts to his grasp and take them in his teeth, to which unseemly act not even a whore could inspire him. She _must_ be deceiving him.

“Alice, I warn you now that to dissemble with me in this matter will be futile. This is your final opportunity to make a confession.”

“But,” she looked genuinely distressed, so that he was almost persuaded to believe her above the unbearable strain of his cockstand, “I have nothing to confess. Please believe me. Why do you think I am untruthful?”

The question, so gently phrased in such a pleasant, moderate tone of voice, drove him to impulsive action. He tore impatiently at the front of his garments until his cock was freed to stand between them. Alice drew back in shock at the sight, raising her hands to cover the bottom half of her face and peeping fearfully at it over her fingertips.

“Oh!” she said “Are you ill?”

“It is a sort of sickness,” he retorted, “that inspires a young girl to debase herself in such a way that a man is tempted to possess her. Can you deny that you have behaved loosely?”

“Mr. Morrison!” Alice looked from his cock to his face then back again with a sort of plaintive horror, “I have never in my life done anything that would cause you to be ashamed of my conduct. I hope I have been guided by you in all things. What would you have me do to prove this?”

Again, the gentility of her face and the clear honesty of her voice nearly swayed him to believe her. Her hands she still kept up, as if to protect herself from the sight of his nakedness. Something about her refusal to gaze directly at his cock when she had so clearly consented to looseness of action in some form or other, in order to have inspired its awakening, drove him beyond patience to cold fury.

“You can come here and kneel,” he ordered her, “and confront the cost of your debauchery.”

She approached all a-tremble from the top of her head to the toes of neat, white kid boots. She knelt before him as prettily and humbly as a maid at the altar, and looked up into his face with a sort of faint, fading hope that she might persuade him of her virtue.

“Sir, please. Whatever has . . . has happened,” her eyes skirted around the open flap and the evidence of his virility, “I think can be mended. Won’t you allow me to fetch a physician? If you’re unwell—”

“It is not I who am unwell,” he corrected her. “I am upright in this and all other matters. If you have inflamed me to lust after you then the fault must lie in your own conduct.”

Alice drew back, eyes and mouth wide.

“To lust after me?” she echoed. Her voice was thinned with horror. “On my honour, I have done nothing—”

“Have you not?” he challenged. “Why just last night, I saw you in your night clothes. Do you deny that you stood out on the landing with the shape of your body plainly visible through your sleeping garments? I saw the curve of your hip and the swell of your breast, just as you must have wished me to. Now here is the cost of your lewdness.”

He reached out and took her by the back of the neck, forcing her gaze to land on the menacing rod of his cock.

“And here is the price you will pay for leading me down this path,” he concluded. “Now remove your dress, and show me everything you wished me to see when you thought you could pretend to innocence about it.”

Alice fought against his hand, crying out in protest, but he was undeceived by her trickery. Since she was slow to oblige him in his demand he took the fine cloth of her gown in his hand and tore it away.

He was surprised at the ease of the thing; the light white cloth, ill suited to the rough and tumble pursuits of boyhood, was suitable for the more delicate enjoyments of girlhood. As such, it gave way with hardly a rip of protest and bared to his gaze the even softer, whiter fabric of her undergarments.

She did not wear a woman’s full stays but the guiding, supportive garments suited to a young lady about to leave the school room and make her debut to society. The upper curve of her breasts rose, swollen and tempting, above the soft white ruffle of her chemise. The stays offered a token resistance but he overcame that easily enough when he freed her neck and used both hands to rip open her bodice, baring her breasts for his satisfaction.

They were perfect in every respect. A small, plump palmful each, the skin was creamy white, the tips blushing rosy-pink as if at the embarrassment of their condition. Alice was weeping openly now, her dainty hands making vain efforts to fend him off, to no avail.

The pretence of modesty offended him in a way her bare flesh did not.

“You would have me take you like this, would you not?” he challenged, rising above her so that his cock was at her eye level, or would have been, if she would consent to regard it instead of playing the maid still. “Half-clothed, like a whore. Well I will not satisfy you in that, my girl. I will have you properly, do you understand? You will submit to me as a lady ought to yield to a gentleman, naked in her master’s bed, and not in this wanton half-clad fashion. Then you will see you cannot defy me without cost.”

“Please, Sir,” she sobbed, “I think you must be very unwell, fevered perhaps—”

“Enough!” he thundered. “I will not have you pretend to virtue you do not possess. Stand before me now and thank me for my consideration of your status in my possession of you, or I will turn you out into the street just as you are.”

Alice looked up at him in pained horror, all too conscious of her torn gown and the poor blushing breasts he had bared.

“Turn me—oh please, no!”

“Then stand at once and thank me kindly for my consideration.”

She rose on shaking legs and tried to cover her chest with her arms. He coldly slapped her hands away.

“None of your false modesty, girl. Out with it.”

“Thank you kindly,” she whispered, the words so faint they were nearly carried away by a soft current of parlour air, “for your con-consideration of my . . . my status and desiring to guard my virtue.”

“Quite right,” he said, almost approving. “Now turn yourself around and climb those stairs. We’ll soon have this finished properly.”

She looked at him beseechingly, eyes awash with tears. The clear blue of them shone behind her shame, and it was almost certainly in that moment that Derrick saw through the thin pretence of his own self-deception, because there was nothing wanton in the girl to be found. Alice was virtuous in every respect and horrified by the path her guardian had laid out for them both. But by that point there was no turning back. His cock was raging to bury itself between the thighs still concealed by the skirt of her torn gown, and the breasts he longed to molest with his teeth and tongue bounced immediately before his eyes, as unmarked and delectable as he had always dreamed. So he did not draw her back when she turned, defeated, to mount the stairs in her ruined gown and lead the way to his chamber.

He followed behind her, appreciating the soft lines of her waist and the shadows cast on her skin by her hair. He could still feel the curls between his fingers, and the sense memory hardened his cock to an unbearable stiffness. He was desperate to put it to proper employment in her ruination, never mind whether or not she had earned it.

Even so, it might do well to cause her doubt in that regard, and he took care to do so as they entered his bedroom.

“There you see,” he gloated, locking the door behind them, “you hardly hesitated at all. How long have you hoped that I would bring you here and bend you to my will?”

She had not once, ever. He saw it in the way her eyes darted fearfully back and forth between the bed and the readiness of his erection, but he also saw her upbringing in her humble obedience to his demand. It was charming, the way she undressed at his order, tearfully baring her body to his open enjoyment.

Every part of her was sweet and tender, from her soft pleas that he would permit her to stop, to the way she did not even resist when he caught her around the waist and flung her back onto the bed. She was in every respect a most desirable woman, and he was about to make her entirely his own.

She landed on her back in the midst of the plushness, curtains hanging from the posts about them, velvet coverlet yielding to the slightness of her frame, with her legs splayed helplessly. As she struggled to right herself to some degree, he drank in the welcome sight of her untried cunt. The soft dark mossy curls, the pure pink lips that hinted at everything promised within . . . he knelt between her legs and cupped the treasure almost tenderly.

“There now,” he said kindly, “you see, it is not so bad when you give in, is it? If you had just been a good girl and told me your faults from the start, it would not have had to be this way. But you will have your stubborn moments, won’t you, Alice?”

She looked at him beseechingly as he stroked the pink cuntlips, fingers exploring all he would soon possess. He tested the dampness of her, a maiden’s fear not quite equal to woman’s instinct in these matters, and could see as she started fearfully at the intimate caress that she accepted the futility of protest at this point, yet her virtue and honest optimism drove her to make a final plea.

“M-Mister Morrison, please, will you not believe that I have told the truth? I have not been wanton or loose, I give you my word. I am guided by you and only you in all things. If you pursue this course, you will be my only ruiner.”

“Well then,” he decided, “there’s one way to know for sure, is there not? Spread your legs now, Alice, and give me a proper look at you.”

She covered her face and wept into the palms of her hands even as she obeyed. He was so charmed by this that he did not demand she bare her face; instead he braced a hand on either side of her, leaning in to take each of her perfect breasts in his mouth by turns. He suckled and nipped each sweet, perfect tit as he had longed to do, first laving the nipples with tender kisses and caresses of the tongue, then punishing them with his teeth, marking the pure white flesh with scarlet crescents until she begged him, shrilly, brokenly, to stop.

He heeded her pleas in letter if not in spirit, abandoning his vicious attention to her breasts only to kneel between her thighs and rain tender kisses on her cunt, so that it slicked and swelled beneath the feather-soft assault.

Her cries now were not of pain, but of virtue offended, innocence breached. They were all the lovelier for it.

“Oh!” she cried into her hands, still hiding her gaze from the sight of her own ruin, but helpless to shield her flesh from the sensation of it. “What are you—what is it that—”

“Tsk,” he sighed, “look at you my dear. You may cry your innocence but you are far too hot and ready for me. See this, here?” he traced his finger through the damp, silken entrance of her most guarded secret. “You cannot hide this from me. I do believe you are about to spend like a whore.”

“I’m not,” she sobbed, “I couldn’t, I don’t even know how! Please believe me I could never—oh—ohh— _oh!_ ”

Heedless of her protests he had bent forward between her thighs, found the tiny pearl of her womanhood, taken it between his lips and suckled her remorselessly to orgasm.

She cried out, helpless beneath the sensation, her dear little cunt clutching desperately at something it had never contained, hungry for something she could not comprehend. He gloried in the spend that coated his chin, suckling her down into frightened, tearful satiation before he at once delivered a remorseless slap to her cunt.

She cried out again, this time in pain and confusion, but he was merciless in his lecture.

“There!” he cried. “The very proof of your debauchery. No maiden would have relished that debasement. I will hear no more of your protests, girl. We will finish this as you have hoped we would, though you thought you could hide it, and if you are _very_ fortunate I will not turn you out when we are done.”

There was no further point in protest, of course. Alice could see it, and he saw that she could. All the same, her lower lip quivered as he guided his ragingly impatient cock into position, and he saw her long to beg his mercy though she could not have dreamed that she would find it.

He took a sort of pity on her then, and kissed her cheek fondly.

“My dear,” he said, “just because I will not stop, does not mean I will be angered if you _ask_ me to.”

“I—I wish you would not,” she whispered, helpless, defeated. “I wish you would stop.”

“I know,” he whispered back, “but I am afraid there’s no help for it now.” And driving his hips forward, he made her his own.

She cried out beneath him. She begged him to stop. She entreated him in perfect humility to spare her. So charmingly plaintive were her cries, he took mercy on her and was almost gentle in his assault. Unyielding, of course—he was master in this house, and it would not do to have her forget it—but as he rocked his hips forward, he did give her a few moments between each thrust to allow her poor little cunt to adjust to the impossibility of the intruder. She looked up at him, desperate, beseeching, and he smiled gently as he completed her ruination.

“There, darling,” he stroked her hair once there was no more of her to yield to length of him, her virgin’s moist velvet purse stretched agonizingly thin around the length and girth of him, “you see? You are completed. All is as it should be.”

She shook her head, tears still trickling away from her eyes, wetting her temples as she tilted her little chin up to him.

“It hurts so very much, Sir, please—”

“Yes, hush now,” he said absently, “that’s all part of it, you’ll see. It won’t be so bad soon enough. We’ve just got to acclimate you to it. Like so.”

At this he began a most moderate assault of her newly-plundered treasures, thrusting far gentler than he would have preferred, so that she was forced to accustom herself gradually to the invasion. Her plump buttocks he cupped in each hand, the better to angle her hips toward him for complete access. Though she cried out softly at the discovery this would increase her discomfort and force her to accommodate still greater a part of his cock, she did not attempt to push him off, as she must have known it would do her precious little good. Instead she blinked woefully up at him, her face flushed even at her own comparatively modest exertion in this exercise, and made some feeble efforts to hide her face. These he patiently discouraged, though he did permit her to hide her shame some little time before brushing her hands aside again and pinching a nipple or nipping her neck in stern admonishment.

The sturdy bed barely groaned under his assault, though Alice moaned enough for all three. He did not last long on that first morning with her, and if she had known then what she would later learn of his stamina she would have been uncomplainingly grateful of it. He rode her what must have seemed to the untried girl like a positive eternity, but to him was only the ecstasy of a minute or two at most before the sweet, tight cunt proved more pleasure than he could stand, and milked greedily from his generous cock an obscene wealth of seed.

He spent in her with a low groan even as she wept into his shoulder. Having taken his full measure of satisfaction he delighted to tarry in the withdrawal, holding himself and his spend tight within her a few moments longer, first kissing her lips, her nose, her eyes and the rosy, blushing tips of those perfect breasts—now wholly his own to fondle whenever he willed it. For what other man could have her now? She was entirely his conquest.

“There my dear,” he breathed, easing at last from Alice’s poor cunt with exquisite reluctance and settling onto the bed at her side, “you see? Your cunt needed that sorely, though you might not have known it yourself! Never fear darling; that is only natural. It was formed for this very purpose, and I suppose it was time that you learned.”

She sniffled into her palms, once more hiding her eyes from his gaze. He stroked her hair for a moment, indulging her pointless modesty a moment or two before obliging her to uncover her face once more and look on his smile.

“What’s more,” he pointed out, as she clutched the coverlet up around her nakedness, “in this union I think we have found sufficient proof of your virtue and fidelity to my will!” He pressed a tender kiss to her temple, petting the curls there with one hand while the other was happily occupied with stroking the softer curls far below.

“Sufficient, that is, for now.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, you had some pretty damn irresistible prompts! I hope that you enjoy the result(s), and accept my apologies for any anachronisms that crept in.


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